Masque

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Masque Page 13

by Lexi Post


  Her hurt changed to rage. She’d trusted him. She had wanted him in her life longer than the Pleasure Rooms. Hah! He could hang around for centuries, long after she was dead. How come she didn’t know, couldn’t sense it?

  She shivered. She wasn’t sure if it was from anger or the shock. Staring into eyes of complete grayness, she gritted her teeth. “Let me go. Now.”

  His impassive face didn’t hide the panic in his eyes or the desperation, even fear.

  She steeled herself against his emotions, in too much pain herself to care.

  He slowly released her arms, his eyes once again devoid of feelings. He stepped away and bowed as if he were fully dressed instead of naked except for his blue mask. “As you wish.” Then he walked to the door. Why he didn’t simply vanish was beyond her.

  But as he exited, he hesitated and looked at her, shook his head and left.

  Rena whipped off her t-shirt and mask and strode to the bathing room. It may only be cold water, but she had a strong need to wash. Opening the flow, she watched as water began to fill the tub.

  What was she doing here? Bryce was right. She was worthless on her own. She couldn’t even tell the difference between a man and a ghost. She’d allowed Synn to entice her into sexual experiences because she’d thought him upper class, but in fact, he was probably a lower-class charlatan from the 1800s. If she couldn’t even distinguish between man and spirit, how the hell could she run a successful bed-and-breakfast, especially a haunted one? Once again, she’d let her libido lead her.

  Staring at the gathering water, she watched droplets fall from her own face. The familiar feeling of failure cloaked her mind, bringing with it its mind-numbing magic. Now if she could just hold her heart together, she could wallow in self-pity, but it wasn’t to be. She turned off the water and stood in the cold tub. She mindlessly washed her body, taking deep breaths at the harsh pain that surrounded her heart, which made the frigid water feel warm in comparison.

  She had liked Synn more than she let herself accept. Already she’d come to depend upon him, look forward to his company, and enjoy his body far too much. Stupid, stupid girl. She sat on the edge of the tub and twirled the soap in her hand. She should have known. His consistent disappearing and reappearing were right there in front of her. His knowledge of the Abbey and the ghosts had all been too firsthand.

  The soap fell from her hand and plopped in the water, splashing her legs. She shivered at the cold reminder of her nakedness. Rinsing her hands, she stood and grabbed the towel nearby. She couldn’t even smile at Mrs. McMurray’s thoughtfulness in leaving it there. Mechanically, she walked to her dresser and pulled out a t-shirt. She turned toward the bed and noticed the sex journal on her nightstand. At the sight, a self-directed anger spewed up inside her and she lashed out at the book, sending it flying across the room to smash against the wall.

  Rage. Self-loathing. Heartache. It was too much. She collapsed on the bed, tears of frustration soaking her cheeks as she cried into the pale-yellow quilt. Sobs choked her until her breathing became labored and her exhausted mental state insisted that she rest. She welcomed the black oblivion, content to escape.

  * * * * *

  Synn eschewed the wall-walk for the chapel. He needed to talk to Father Richard and the good man better believe it was important. Slamming open the chapel door, he strode to the front of the pews. “She thinks I’m a ghost!”

  He paced in front of the altar. “Damn it! Did you hear me? She thinks I’m a ghost. She’s not going to have sex with a blasted ghost. If Eric hadn’t threatened her life I wouldn’t be here.”

  He stopped and sniffed the air. Only musty wood filled his nostrils. “God damn it, Father. What the devil has to happen for you to believe it’s bloody important enough to help? Should I give her to Eric?”

  Even at the thought, a shudder ran through him, which was a minor discomfort compared to the right hook that caught him square on the jaw and laid him flat.

  “DON’T EVER SWEAR IN THE HOUSE OF OUR LORD! Do you hear me?”

  Synn lay on the chapel’s stone floor. The whole town must have heard the priest’s roar. Uncertain what to make of this side of Father Richard, Synn rubbed his jaw while opening and closing it to be sure it wasn’t broken before he dared to look up at the very angry father. The priest appeared at least ten feet tall and his form floated above the ground. Hesitantly, Synn nodded once, but couldn’t help grumbling. “A lot of good I’m going to do our lady with a bruised jaw. I can forget about kissing now.”

  Father Richard shrunk back to his normal, solid size and offered his hand.

  Synn, not wanting to anger the man further, accepted and found himself helped to a standing position.

  Father Richard shook his head. “Now I’ll be repenting that move for at least a year. I wonder if the cause could be considered just.”

  Not sure what the father referred to, Synn retreated to a safe distance and sat in the front pew. “Are you done beating on me?”

  Father Richard flushed. “What has you so riled that you defile a house of God?”

  Synn continued to stroke his jaw, still not sure it was quite in working order. “It’s Eric and it’s Rena and whether I’m a ghost or not. God da—uh, it’s complicated.”

  Father Richard arranged his robes and sat on the front pew across the aisle. “It always is when a woman is involved.”

  Synn stood again. “The problem is Eric threatened Rena’s life in order to force me to vanish in front of her.” He paced across the front of the chapel. “I had no choice. She is the Abbey’s only hope. I vanished, but now she believes me to be a ghost. She wouldn’t allow me to explain.”

  He stopped and faced Father Richard. “The problem is, I’m not sure what I could say.” He rubbed the back of his neck and spun on his heel to resume his pacing. “We still have three more Pleasure Rooms left. What if I can’t convince her to go through them? Everyone will remain here, only instead of having the Abbey to themselves, they will be forced to share it with temporary boarders.”

  Synn fell into the front pew and let his shoulders sag. He stared unseeing at the stone floor, the churning in his gut a familiar encore. The utter guilt made his voice barely a whisper. “I’m failing them…again.”

  Father Richard’s hand cupped his shoulder. Peace flowed from the priest’s hand, but he didn’t deserve it. Synn shook off the comfort and bent forward, his elbows on his knees, his head hanging low between his shoulders. He’d done it again. Tried to do what was right and instead made everything worse.

  The priest sat next to him. “You have not failed them, Synn. You are the only light of hope they have.”

  He turned his head to stare at the man as fury burned through his heart. “And all I’ve done is killed that hope, over and over. And now…” He tightened his hands into fists to keep the self-loathing from exploding. “We were so close.” He clamped his mouth shut, trying to hold on to his temper. And then Father Richard smiled, shaking his head.

  Synn’s stomach loosened in perplexity. “How can you smile? I’ve failed.”

  The father laid his hand upon Synn’s forearm. “No, my son, you have not. I have every faith in your ability to charm and beguile that lovely woman back into bed with you. I know it here,” the priest put his hand to his heart, “that you will succeed in freeing these souls.”

  Synn sat straight. “You do? How? Are you sure I haven’t created a false hope in you too?”

  The father shook his head. “I have faith in you, but your success in helping these souls to the other side is not what concerns me most.”

  “How can you say that?” Synn stood again. “It’s my only concern. I must right the wrong I committed.”

  Father Richard sighed. “How many times must I tell you? You did not kill these people.”

  “You can believe as you choose, but I was the one who brought the Red Death into the Abbey. You can’t deny it.”

  “I don’t deny it. What I deny is that you had any choice in the
matter.”

  Synn’s breath caught hard in his chest. Choice?

  Father Richard rose. “My son, these men and women who haunt the Abbey were destined for the other side. Why they didn’t get there has been the subject of my investigations, and I think your friend Eric may be the key. We underestimated him.”

  Synn stared at the father as if he’d grown three horns and a pig’s tail. We? Investigation? He grabbed the father’s arm. “I think you better explain.”

  The father looked down at Synn’s hand and he quickly released the priest. The good father might provide peace and comfort at the slightest touch, but Synn had learned his lesson. Father Richard was much more than he appeared.

  The older man sighed and shook his head. “The souls of this abbey should have crossed over, but something evil and licentious blocked the way after the prince left. That’s why I have faith that your plan to take the good-hearted Rena through the Pleasure Rooms will unlock the barrier for our inhabitants. But you must not look at her as simply a means to an end. She is more than that.”

  Exaltation and determination shot through Synn’s veins. He jumped to his feet and brushed by the good father before he’d finished speaking. Synn would find a way to seduce Rena through the last rooms, no matter what the consequences. “Thank you, Father. Your confirmation is what I needed. Even if I have to beg her, I will be sure that our hostess finishes the last rooms. Our friends deserve their peace.”

  As the door to the chapel closed, Father Richard slumped into a pew. “But so do you, Synn. So do you.”

  Chapter Ten

  Rena tried to focus on the computer screen before her, but between the yelling and her own frayed nerves, she didn’t make much progress. Her laptop battery was charged, thanks to the Ford Expedition and an adapter, but Valerie’s daily arguments with Jamie, and Synn’s absence, kept the chances of concentration to a minimum.

  Fraser’s Tea Room in town had wonderful Wi-Fi and yesterday she’d done exhaustive research on the internet regarding ghosts. Not only did Synn not fit the profile, but neither did any of her current residents. They were dead, as attested to by the headstones in the chapel graveyard…all except Synn. She found no grave for a Synn MacAllistair, so he had to have been the one to bury them all. So where was his body? The image of his decaying body slumped in a corner of a room upstairs had her stomach flipping over and she swallowed hard to keep the bile from rising in her throat. She couldn’t go there.

  Unfortunately, even the fact her ghosts became solid didn’t fit the profile either. As with the furnishings in the house, which hadn’t aged a day since the Abbey had been abandoned, it didn’t make sense. Again she wondered if there was a curse.

  A loud crash sounded from the other side of the Abbey. She cringed and put her hands over her ears. She’d given up trying to find middle ground between Jamie and Val. They would either fall into bed together or kill each other, and right now, she didn’t much care which, as long as she could have a little peace and quiet.

  At that moment, Mrs. McMurray peeked in and spoke, but Rena couldn’t be sure what she said.

  She took her hands from her ears and smiled. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  “Would you like some tea, Miss?”

  The idea of Mrs. McMurray’s soothing tea sounded perfect for her stomach. “I would love some.” The older woman always knew what food or drink would be best at any particular time. Yesterday morning after Rena had discovered Synn could vanish, Mrs. McMurray had seen how upset she was and made cinnamon buns. Just thinking about them had her mouth watering again. Then last night, Mrs. McMurray had insisted she needed chocolate-filled pastries and Rena had been in a chocolate coma ever since. At least until now.

  The housekeeper stepped into the room carrying a tea tray and placed it on her desk. Their afternoon tea together had become a comfortable habit, and she had learned much from the older woman, but she always refrained from asking the most important questions. Maybe her subconscious didn’t want to know.

  Mrs. McMurray filled the two cups, dropped a lump of sugar in each and added a touch of cream to one before she handed it to Rena.

  “Thank you.”

  The older woman took the other cup and sat in the chair across from her. She shook her head as the argument between Jamie and Valerie grew louder.

  Rena sighed. “You can’t stand their noise either?”

  The woman rolled her eyes. “It’s an atrocity. People shouldn’t act so in public.”

  Rena nodded, though she didn’t consider the Abbey public. Yet. It was more like home to her, which was unexpected. As she and Mrs. McMurray sat listening to the yelling going on in the dining room, another crash sounded, which was followed by complete silence. They looked at each other in wide-eyed fear. Rena recovered first and ran around the desk for the doorway, Mrs. McMurray close behind her.

  They rushed into the dining room where they were greeted by the sight of Valerie, sprawled on her back on the table, with Jamie on top kissing her as if he’d die were they to separate. Valerie’s hand on Jamie’s ass told Rena all she needed to know, and a secret joy filled her to her toes. Mrs. McMurray, standing next to her, recovered from her shock and took a breath to speak, but Rena grabbed her arm and pulled her from the room. They made it as far as the Purple Room before the woman started in.

  “Doesn’t she know that kind of activity is only allowed to happen in the colored rooms? We scour those rooms on a daily basis. Humph. Times have certainly changed since I served the prince. There were very specific rules. The dining room was for dining only, the kitchens for cooking and the bedrooms for sleeping. All activity of a sexual nature had to be performed in the Pleasure Rooms. If anyone did what those two are doing, they would have been thrown out.”

  Mrs. McMurray, having reached her seat across from Rena’s desk, plopped herself into it with a huff to punctuate her last statement.

  Rena grinned, unable to help herself. Taking a sip of tea, she studied the older woman. “Were there a lot of rules to living in the Abbey?”

  Mrs. McMurray pondered her question for a moment. “I guess there were a few, but after living here for a while, we didn’t think about them anymore.”

  Rena put her cup down and leaned forward. “What happened? Why did everyone, um, cease to exist as…um, I mean—”

  “You mean how did we all die? Synn didn’t tell you?”

  Rena held her breath as she shook her head. He told her about the Red Death, but not what role he played in its sweep of the Abbey’s inhabitants.

  Mrs. McMurray took another sip of her tea. “I wonder why he didn’t tell you? Probably still feels guilty after all these years, poor man. It wasn’t his fault, you understand. He didn’t know and he was trying to do the right thing.” She took another sip of tea and cleared her throat.

  Rena noticed her doing that a lot and understood. The woman was losing her voice and soon she would lose substance. It made Rena sad. She would miss her teas over the next few weeks as the ghosts disappeared. She smiled encouragingly at the older woman, who continued.

  “When I arrived, I thought it had been the best of luck to have found such a grand position, but after six months with us all cooped up in here and everyone dying out there,” she gestured to the window with her hand, “it started to bother me. So, a few months later when Synn crept in the back way, well, I was happy to see him.”

  Rena squirmed in her seat, anxious for the rest of the story. “What happened?”

  Mrs. McMurray’s eyes snapped to Rena and refocused. “The Red Death came to the Abbey then.”

  Rena waited for the woman to swallow another sip of tea, but no further information came. “What about Synn? Why the guilt, and what had he hoped to do that was right, and how come you are all still here, and why are the Abbey’s furnishing as new as the day it was abandoned?”

  Mrs. McMurray’s surprise at her questions turned to confusion before she rose. “I don’t think I have the answers you seek, Miss. I bett
er get back to the kitchen and make the cookies I promised Matt.”

  “Wait.” Rena stared at where Mrs. McMurray had been but a moment ago. Throwing herself back in her chair, she growled. “Why is it so hard to get answers around here?” Frustrated once again, she tried to focus on her computer screen, but her mind wouldn’t stay still. Synn hadn’t appeared in two days and she had a gnawing dread that he might never return. Her brain celebrated, telling her it was for the best, but her heart mourned her loss. Obviously, it made no distinction between Synn the man and Synn the ghost.

  * * * * *

  Rena played with the nacho chip on her plate, finding it hard to be enthused about finishing her dinner. The tuna sandwich was edible, but it sat like a lump of masonry in her stomach. The fact was, she missed Synn.

  Valerie’s hand came down on the table. “Rena! Have you heard anything I just said?”

  She looked up and shook her head.

  “I asked if you wanted electricity in the chapel. Where are you lately?”

  She crushed the chip into the paper plate. “I’m here. It’s just so damn quiet. I miss them.”

  Valerie nodded. “Yeah, I do too. Darby and Trent were such a great help in the servants’ corridors. It takes Jamie and me twice as long to do what they did.”

  “No, that’s not what I mean. I mean I miss talking with them, seeing them, having them around. They are like part of the family.”

  “Yeah, I get that, but I think there is more to your distraction than the ghosts being gone. After all, this is how it will be every month and besides, in a few days you will start seeing them again. I think it’s Synn.”

  Rena’s heart leapt at the mention of his name. “I’m disappointed, Val. I thought he was real, not a ghost. I started to have feelings for him, a ghost. That’s so unnatural.”

  Valerie reached her hand across the table and covered Rena’s over her plate. “Ree, look at me. There is no way you could have known. When I said he was hiding something, even I didn’t expect it to be that he was dead. It’s not your fault. It’s his for not telling you.”

 

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